


Love Sometimes Injures

by schizoauthoress



Series: Seven Days of Smulio 2017 [6]
Category: The Simpsons
Genre: Alcohol, Julio's insecurity is becoming paranoia, M/M, Waylon's crush on Monty starts becoming a problem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-07 02:34:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11049501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schizoauthoress/pseuds/schizoauthoress
Summary: Chapter One: Waylon and Julio have a fight.  Waylon goes to Moe's Tavern.Chapter Two: The morning after.





	1. Part One: The Fight

_'All good is hard. All evil is easy. Dying, losing, cheating, and mediocrity is easy. Stay away from easy.'  
\-- Scott Alexander_

"...And anyway, where the devil were you on Wednesday night?" Monty complained. "The housekeeper had to run my foam bath!"

"Isn't that her job, sir?" Waylon inquired, without looking up from proofreading he was doing.

"She never gets the temperature right, and the bubbles were far less dense than they ought have been."

"I'll see to it that she consults the written instructions I've left, sir."

Monty scowled and tossed another leaf of lettuce to Sheldon. "You didn't answer my question either!"

"I do have a social life, Mr. Burns."

Monty sneered at that -- even though Waylon still didn't look at his face, it was obvious from his tone as he asked, "Exercising your dog and writing letters to your mother?"

It was mildly gratifying to hear that his boss remembered his usual weekend activities when single, but most of that was washed away by Waylon's annoyance at the dismissal in Monty's tone. Finally, he set aside his red pen and lowered the manuscript from his eyes.

"Since you're so curious, sir, I'll tell you. Julio and I were attending our second swing dancing lesson on Wednesday night."

Monty huffed. "And who, pray tell, is Julio?"

Waylon wasn't sure why his heart was beating so hard. He wasn't afraid of what Monty would think, was he? But, aside from the women he knew would be supportive -- namely Patty Bouvier and his neighbor Mrs. Scopes -- Waylon hadn't had to tell anyone. His direct reports at the power plant had been the ones to set him up with Julio, and anyone who'd seen them around town could tell he and Julio were a couple.

Waylon cleared his throat. "Julio is my boyfriend."

Monty huffed. "Finally got yourself another one, hey? And here I thought you'd opted for a life of celibacy."

Waylon made a face at the idea, and said shortly, "No, sir."

"Good man, good man..." Monty said absently, nodding. His gaze sharpened again, and focused on Waylon. He made a dismissive sound and grumbled, "I suppose you'll need Wednesday nights free for those dancing lessons you two are taking."

"I'd appreciate it," Waylon said coolly. He knew well that showing too much enthusiasm for one of Monty's suggestions could backfire on him.

Monty was quiet, considering whether or not to grant the largely unspoken request. As he weighed his options, Waylon silently went back to proofreading.

Sheldon grunted with displeasure at the lack of attention he was getting. Monty was distracted from decision-making -- he fed the tortoise a few more leaves of lettuce and bits of banana, and petted the ancient reptile's tiny, smooth head. Unnoticed by the pair of them, Waylon gave a little shudder. He hated having to touch Sheldon, and avoided it as much as possible. 

He couldn't help it. Sheldon just gave him the creeps.

Eventually, though, Monty remembered the conversation he'd been having with Waylon. He sighed and said, "Oh, very well! So long as the housekeeper actually follows your instructions this time, I daresay I won't even notice you're gone!"

Waylon smiled. "Yes, sir. Thank you."

****

Julio scowled at the latest text message on his phone -- yet another cancellation from Waylon, bowing out of a planned dinner date in favor of doing something for Mr. Burns. He understood why Waylon did this -- it was definitely important that Waylon keep this well-paying job as Mr. Burns's assistant. There were times that Waylon had ignored Mr. Burns in favor of Julio himself, and he had to remember that. 

Julio understood it, but he still hated it -- especially because this was the third time in a row that this had happened.

It reminded Julio of Grady, and the way Grady had acted before hiring Homer to break up with Julio on his behalf.

'Waylon is not Grady!' Julio told himself sternly, as he backed out of the messaging app and locked his smartphone. But as he was pocketing the phone, another thought came to him, unbidden: 'Eli and Gordon weren't Grady either, and they acted the same way.'

Julio made a frustrated sound. He wasn't going to do this. He wasn't going to give in to the suspicious thoughts or the jealousy. He just... needed something else to do.

"Jimothy! Who was that dye supplier who gave you grief yesterday? I need somebody to yell at!"

****

"Smithers, you're supposed to be helping me choose which low income housing non-profit to sabotage!" Monty accused, "You haven't been paying attention at all!"

"Sorry, sir," Waylon said, unable to stop a small sigh from escaping. "I just thought you called me over here for something a little more urgent."

"This latest legislation will flood the market with housing vouchers! Low income people in middle class neighborhoods, bringing down their market values, which will in turn bring down mine! This is urgent, Smithers!"

"Sorry again, sir. Can I see the brochures from VIDA again?"

Waylon barely reacted when Monty tried to angrily sweep the glossy magazine across the table at him. The publication fluttered weakly in the air, and Waylon leaned forward to catch it on the way down.

How had he been taken in so easily? The smallest of concessions from Mr. Burns about his free time, and Waylon had let his guard down. How had he not considered that by accepting the offer of Wednesday nights without any bargaining, he was leaving himself open for demands from the man on any other day of the week? 

Waylon knew that Monty could be so petty -- hell, he'd seen Monty's epic pettiness in action numerous times over the years. How could he have thought he'd be exempt from it?

But Waylon didn't dare bring it up now. This was a weak position to negotiate from. Unless... maybe he could convince Julio to drop the swing dancing classes in favor of something that took up the whole weekend? It was something to consider...

****

'It's Wednesday! :)' the latest text from Waylon read. Julio squinted at the screen -- his eyes took some time to readjust to the brightness first thing in the morning -- and read further, 'Mr. Burns knows we have class and won't ask me to work late!'

"Oh," Julio muttered, with an utter lack of enthusiasm, "Joy."

He should have been happy at the confirmation that he'd be able to spend time with his boyfriend without interruption. But the reminder that Mr. Burns commanded such attention and obedience from Waylon soured any excitement that Julio might have dredged up.

Still... the teacher had complimented them on their coordination last week, especially when it came to the faster footwork. And they'd managed a practice session on Sunday afternoon, so they weren't totally rusty. It didn't necessarily have to be an exercise in embarrassing themselves.

Julio texted back, 'I'm looking forward to it, baby!'

As long as it actually happened.

****

Waylon watched Julio buff a small scratch to invisibility on the toe of the sturdy black shoes that Julio favored for dancing. They had forty-five minutes before class started -- about fifteen before they'd have to leave the condo to make it to Mx. Cameron's studio. Waylon had already changed from his work clothes into a royal blue t-shirt and the black jazz pants he'd bought to wear for class -- really a pair of v-waisted leggings with a loose fit around the ankles. But did he really want to spend the evening following shouted instructions and getting his feet stepped on by less coordinated couples? Did Julio? The swing dancing had been Waylon's idea, after all.

His smart watch buzzed. A quick glance at the screen told him that it was a message from Moe -- 'We need more of that peppermint cleaner. Rats are getting too bold for NPH to handle.' Waylon tapped at the screen to add a note to his calendar to call the essential oil distiller in Ogdenville tomorrow.

"Maybe we should skip dance class tonight," Waylon commented.

Julio stopped polishing his shoe and turned his head slowly to look at Waylon. His gaze flicked up and down, as if studying Waylon's posture for clues as to what that statement could mean. One eyebrow went up, as the corners of Julio's mouth turned down, and he said, quite sharply,

"Oh? And what fun activity does Monty have planned for the two of you?"

Waylon blinked, utterly confused at the question, which seemed a complete non sequitur to him.

Julio sniffed. "Alphabetizing his correspondence with the oligarchy? Sock folding?" He tossed his shoe to the floor, and his voice rose, "Or maybe some good, old fashioned illegal dumping of toxic waste?"

"What are you talking about?" Waylon demanded.

Julio pointed at the smart watch on Waylon's wrist. "What, that's not Mr. Burns? It's been Mr. Burns practically every night this week!"

Waylon held up his arm. "It's Moe! The tavern needs supplies, but that's not until tomorrow! Why are you even yelling at me?"

Julio briefly looked surprised that his assumption had been wrong, but that expression gave way to a sneer as he put both hands on his hips. "You've been ditching me for your boss on the regular and you can't figure out why I might be upset that you're ditching me again?"

"I'm not even ditching you!" Waylon protested. "I said maybe we should skip dance class -- you and me!"

Julio made a frustrated noise and declared, "I hate being treated like an afterthought! I hate it when you ignore me!"

Waylon was starting to understand that this was about much more than a single dance class, and that his misconstrued mention of skipping the class was merely Julio's tipping point into venting anger. But he was getting angry, too.

"Do you think I want to cancel our dates? You know I work a demanding job." Waylon crossed his arms over his chest defensively, and asked, "Haven't I made time for you before? Can't you see I'm trying?"

"Oh yeah, you're trying real hard to make things work, when I'm always the one doing your errands because you can't say no to your dictator of a boss!"

"I'm his personal assistant! I'm supposed to say yes to him!"

Julio actually flinched at that, before his disdainful look slid back into place. "Yeah, and everyone knows there's a whole lot you'd say yes to when it comes to Monty Burns!"

"You don't trust me." Waylon said flatly. He shook his head. "You... you think I'd cheat on you!"

Julio threw his hands into the air and cried, "Excuse me for worrying when you're putting in extra hours with the man all of Springfield knows you're in love with!"

"You're being paranoid." Waylon shot back. He didn't want to touch on the way that Julio had described Monty. It was just... something he never talked about. Waylon matched Julio glare for glare, then said in a purposely calm, cold voice, "People who think everybody cheats are usually the ones who--"

"I've never!" Julio interrupted, looking absolutely furious. "And if you're going to say that shit to me, you can get the hell out of my house!"

"Fine." Waylon snapped. He marched over to the couch, where his duffel bag full of work clothing sat, and snatched it up. He paused at the door, but didn't turn around when he said, "I'm going to Moe's. If you want to talk like a goddamn grownup tonight, I'll see you there."

Julio did not reply. And Waylon walked out of the condo.

****

Moe made an assessing sound low in his throat when Waylon walked in the door, and said, "Ah, I've seen that face before. Pull up a seat -- scotch and water again?"

"Neat," Waylon replied, sitting down at a stool on the long end of the bar. There were several stools between him and Barney, at the far end, as well as Larry who was slouched in the corner near the door. "The Bowmore, and it better not be thinned like your cheap crap."

The scars on Moe's forehead crinkled in a way that Waylon recognized -- Moe was surprised by his words, and possibly a little confused or worried, but he wasn't going to protest. Not yet.

And Waylon figured he was well within his rights to be bitchy if it turned out that Moe really was watering down scotch that cost upwards of four hundred dollars a bottle.

"Listen, anybody who orders this," Moe commented, hefting the bottle slightly before he poured it into a clean glass for Waylon, "knows their scotch. Pretty sure they'd be able to tell if I was adding water to it, and I don't need that kind of bad publicity." He set the glass down within Waylon's reach and produced a pasteboard coaster to put beside the glass.

Waylon took a sip, savoring the smoky flavor of the scotch, and obliged to set the glass on the coaster. "Yeah... we really don't."

Moe scratched at his wrist, a nervous gesture more to do something with his hands than anything else. "Is this a talking problem, or a shut up and keep the liquor coming problem?"

"I don't know," Waylon said. "What kind of problem is it when you're being accused of cheating on your boyfriend when you haven't?"

"Ehhn..." Moe's face pulled into an ugly contortion of distaste. "I've cheated. I've tried to entice other people into cheating with me. But that's a new one on me. What've you been doing to get accused?"

Waylon snorted "My job. Just... my job."

"Uh-huh, and it's not like you're a workaholic or nothin', right?" Moe asked, in a tone that made it obvious he knew how untrue that statement really was. Waylon shot him a glare over the scotch glass, right before taking another deep drink. Moe wasn't cowed; he said, "So Julio doesn't like you being at Burns's beck and call."

Waylon set the glass back down. "He knew what my job was when he started dating me."

"That's true."

"Hey, Moe, I found another five bucks in my shoe!" Barney exclaimed.

"You better not put that filthy thing on my bar, Barney!" Moe retorted. "At least wash it in the bathroom sink first."

Barney belched, drained the beer stein currently sitting in front of him, then got to his (somewhat unsteady) feet. "Good idea," the drunk slurred. "I gotta take a piss anyway." He shoved the crumpled bill into one of his pants pockets and made his slow, weaving way to the bathroom.

Waylon suppressed the urge to shudder. Moe seemed utterly unaffected by Barney's behavior.

"Anyway, top you off?" Moe asked, with a nod to the low level of alcohol currently in Waylon's glass.

"Yeah..." Waylon said. "You set this whole thing off, by the way."

Moe gave a humorless little laugh as he poured more of the Bowmore scotch for Waylon. "I'm so good at ruining my own life, I'm expanding the service."

"He thought your text tonight was from Mr. Burns." Waylon frowned. "Said that every text I've been getting this week has been Mr. Burns. He probably... thinks that I've been sneaking around... that the stuff Mr. Burns tells me to do is just excuses."

"He say that?" Moe asked.

"He was thinking it!" Waylon grumbled. "He thinks I'd sleep around!"

Moe cast a furtive glance at the two bar-flies near the door and spoke quietly, "Look... I heard things, back when this place was a gay hangout? Seems like Julio hasn't been all that lucky in love. The way the gossip goes, that husband he had was an exception." 

"That's not me!" Waylon protested, "That's his exes!"

Moe made a placating gesture with both hands. "Yeah, yeah, I know that -- cool your jets." He sighed. "Speakin' from experience here, is all. You get punched in the head often enough, every little flicker in the corner of your eye looks like a fist comin' at ya."

Waylon made an impatient noise. Moe stepped back, clearly giving Waylon space, and he was distracted soon enough by Barney's return from the bathroom. Waylon kept drinking.

As Waylon was making his way through the third glassful of Bowmore, his smart watch chirped at him. He reluctantly set the glass down and turned his left wrist to look at the tiny screen.

'At the gym' read the most recent message, from Julio.

Waylon huffed. "Fine by me," he grumbled, forgetting entirely that there was no way for Julio to hear that.

****

"I'm gonna call you a cab. You got most of the way through the bottle, Waylon."

"Sure!" Waylon said, smiling. He had to keep his head propped up on his hand, and the heel of his hand kept slipping from his chin to his cheekbone. "Just... put it on my tab!"

"Yeah, I'll do that." Moe sounded less annoyed than he did when one of his usual customers made that comment. Probably because he knew that he could collect on Waylon with a minimum of pissing and moaning about it. He walked over to the phone and dialed the number of the local cab company -- it was one he knew by heart.

"Thanks, Moe." It took more effort than usual for Waylon not to slur his words. "That's good of you."

"Yeah, yeah. Don't go starting any trouble when you leave here, either."

****

"Hey, buddy!" the cab driver said loudly, from the front seat. "This is the place, right?"

Waylon startled out of his drunken half dozing state, and glanced around outside the cab. He recognized the place well, and nodded. "Yeah, this is where I wanted to be. Moe give you enough for my fare?"

"You're covered," she answered.

"Good. Thanks." Waylon opened the door, took a hold of his duffel bag again, and stood up out of the car. It took him a moment to remember to close the door. Once he had, the woman behind the wheel of the cab took off. When he walked, it was in a fairly straight line to the building. 

Waylon got to the door he wanted, without incident, and knocked.

It was quiet on the other side of the door for a long time. And then the door opened.

Julio's hair was still wet from the shower, and he was only wearing a pair of sweatpants, with a towel draped over his shoulders instead of any kind of shirt. He looked at Waylon in silence.

Waylon squinted a little. He swallowed. And then he asked, in a strained voice, "Can I come in?"

Julio looked him up and down, then silently offered him an arm for support. Waylon gratefully took it and let himself be led into the condo by his boyfriend.

At least... he was pretty sure that Julio hadn't broken up with him.

Julio shut the door, and locked it. "...I'm still mad at you," he said.

"I'm pretty mad at you, too." Waylon declared matter-of-factly. "I shouldn't have to defend just doing my job."

Julio sighed. "We can argue later; let's just go to bed."

"Okay." Waylon clung even tighter to Julio's arm.

Julio rolled his eyes, but there was a fond little smile on his lips as he led the way into the bedroom. He pulled away once they got into the room itself, but Waylon was confident in his ability to navigate the short distance to the bed.

He flopped onto the mattress and looked up at Julio. "I'm with you, Julio. That means I don't go for anybody else."

"Promise?" Julio asked.

Waylon silently drew an 'x' over his heart.

Julio let out a breath and nodded. "Okay. Same here, baby."

Waylon smiled brightly, glad to be believed. They'd hash out everything else in the morning.


	2. Part Two: The Morning After

Julio pulled the towel off his shoulders, draping it over his hair and briskly rubbing the fluffy white cloth over his damp hair. He heard Waylon sigh behind him, and turned so that he had a better view of his boyfriend.

Waylon kicked off his shoes and squirmed out of his jacket, pawing at the bowtie around his neck for longer than usual before it came loose. He stood up, wavering a little, then slowly unbuttoned both his shirt and pants -- when he took them off and tossed them toward the armchair in the corner, neither one actually landed on it. He noticed Julio watching him, and gave a small, wavering smile before slowly getting back into the bed.

Julio leaned into the master bathroom, depositing the towel onto the towel bar beside the door. He walked over to the bed and said quietly, "You overheat when you leave your socks on."

Waylon frowned. "Oh, yeah."

"Let me see your feet," Julio said gently. It took a moment for Waylon to process the request, and then one of his sock-covered feet poked out from the side of the blanket. Julio peeled the sock off, and lifted the blanket to reveal Waylon's other foot in order to repeat the process. Afterward, Julio tucked him in securely.

"Thanks..."

"Of course," Julio said. He was still upset, and still wanted to talk things over, but when it came to Waylon, he was bad at holding grudges. He walked around the bed, back to his side, to stand in front of his dresser with the large mirror on top of it. 

Julio brushed out his hair -- the lingering damp not picked up by the towel made it lie flat for once -- and knew that Waylon was still watching him. He didn't want to acknowledge it yet; he didn't want to give Waylon an opportunity to start talking to him about their problems. Waylon was drunk. Julio was feeling annoyed and on edge. It wouldn't do any good for them to start talking now. He heard another sigh from Waylon, and this time he didn't turn.

By the time that Julio crawled into bed, Waylon was already dozing. And Julio was glad. They could talk out their issues tomorrow.

****

When Julio woke, it was still dark in the bedroom, no sunlight peeking through the shuttered vertical blinds. He wasn't entirely sure why he'd roused from his sleep -- more accustomed to 'fighting the alarm' than waking on his own. The he realized that he was wrapped up in more than sheets and blankets. He sleepily patted the arm slung over his chest and mumbled, "Waylon?"

"Mm..." was Waylon's only reply at first, as he continued to move his hips against Julio's backside.

"Waylon," Julio repeated, trying to sound stern despite the way that his body was reacting to Waylon's movements. "I'm still mad at you."

"Want you, Julio..." Waylon whispered. His arm tightened across Julio's chest, pulling Julio even closer. He pressed a kiss to Julio's neck and said, over Julio's needy whimper, "Want you even if we're mad."

Julio squirmed -- perhaps not the smartest move, if his goal was to dissuade Waylon, because it only made Waylon sigh and kiss his neck again -- and huffed when Waylon's grip didn't relent. He grumbled, "Doesn't fix things."

"I know." Waylon's other hand tugged at Julio's sweatpants, sliding the fabric down just a little. The way they were positioned, snuggled up on their sides, made it too difficult to actually remove the clothing. Waylon groaned with frustration, hips rocking even more insistently. "God, please, Julio. I need you. I just _need you_."

Julio couldn't help the way his body moved with Waylon, and honestly, he didn't want to. "Yeah," he gasped, "okay, _yeah_..."

****

"Hm..." Waylon nuzzled Julio's hair and kissed his boyfriend's temple. "That was nice."

Julio laughed softly. He should probably get up, at least wipe up with the flat sheet or something, but he couldn't quite shake off the pleasant languor that always stole over him following a session of really good sex. He managed to lift his head enough to look Waylon in the eye. "Is morning sex the only reason you like me?"

Waylon grinned. "I like you for lots of reasons." He squeezed Julio in a hug, but his voice was more serious when he continued, "And I meant what I said. I'm with you, so I don't go for anybody else."

The hug had pressed Julio up against Waylon's chest, and he stayed there, not looking at Waylon when he said, "I want to believe that, baby. Every other time, I believed that the man I was with was going to love me and stay with me. It's only been true twice. Sometimes I think that I should just stick to one night stands."

Julio was looking for long term commitment in the end, and they both knew that. One night stands were fun, but Waylon knew that wasn't what Julio wanted.

"I know you've dated a lot, and that means you've been lied to a lot." Waylon took a breath. "It hurts, though, knowing that you don't believe me. That you think... that you think I _will_ cheat on you."

"I'm _scared_ you will." Julio closed his eyes, resolving not to cry. Even if every word of what he was going to say hurt him. He felt Waylon's hand stroke gently at his hair, and his resolve wavered. In a rush, he said, "I'm used to not being enough, and I know I'm not what you want. I'm not what you're looking for."

Waylon's hand stilled, on the back of Julio's neck, and Waylon's voice was strained as he asked, "Where did you get an idea like that?"

Julio scoffed. "I'm not stupid; I'm not a shut in. And people talk."

'Everyone knows...' Waylon remembered Julio saying last night. But he only repeated, in a questioning tone, "People talk?"

"I told Ricardo that we were dating. And you know what he said?" Julio sounded absolutely miserable as he gave the answer, "He goes, 'Aren't you a little young for Waylon Smithers?' So I say, 'It's not like I'm jailbait, Cardo, I'm thirty-seven.' But he says, 'Like I said. Too young.' Everybody knows you like older men. Everybody knows who--"

"Everybody," Waylon cut in harshly, "can go take a flying leap. Fucking gossips and busybodies."

Julio pushed away from Waylon, rolling over to his side of the bed. Waylon reached out, resting a hand on Julio's shoulder. Julio held still, neither turning back nor moving further away. He repeated, quiet and sad, "I'm used to not being enough."

"Julio... you might not have been what I was looking for, but I'm _glad_ I found you. I don't know what you mean by not being 'enough'...?"

"Not good enough," Julio said, still not looking at Waylon. "Not smart enough. Too needy. Too _harsh_. Too _clingy_."

Waylon scooted himself closer. Julio pretended not to notice.

"Julio, look at me."

Julio, unseen by Waylon, closed his eyes again. And he held himself very still.

"Julio..." There was a note of annoyance in Waylon's tone, for a moment, but it was gone when he said, "Please look at me."

Julio took a slow, measured breath, trying to keep himself under control. 'This isn't Eli. This isn't Vince. This is Waylon, and he deserves better than being ignored,' Julio told himself sternly. And he moved from lying on his side to lying on his back, turning his head toward Waylon.

Waylon had propped his head up on his other hand, and looked at Julio from that slightly elevated perspective. He was squinting slightly, due to his glasses having been left on the nightstand on his side of the bed, and there was a sad little smile on his face. "Julio... I can't promise we'll always be together. But I swear to you. Right now. If that ever changes, if I ever stop wanting to be with you, I'm going to tell you first."

Julio bit his lower lip. He asked, "You won't sneak around?"

"Never," Waylon vowed solemnly.

Julio sat up at that. "You'll tell me if I'm being completely unreasonable and annoying?"

"I think you've been pretty unreasonable lately, but I understand _why_." Waylon stroked Julio's arm, and offered, "If you promise not to hide your feelings to spare mine, I promise to do the same. Okay?"

Julio frowned a little, and said, "You wouldn't think it's unreasonable to be paranoid if you'd been the one to walk in on Grizzly Shaun dressed up like a baby and in bed with your lover."

Waylon winced, and Julio let out a wry chuckle.

"Yes, that was my initial reaction." He went quiet, and reached out to touch Waylon's face. "I promise... if I think we've got a problem, I'll bring it up right away. I won't stew on it again."

"I promise I won't hide things. And I'll try to be better about answering your texts."

"Okay." Julio went in for a hug, making a happy sound when Waylon hugged him back tightly.

"Okay," Waylon repeated firmly. They settled back onto the bed, Julio fitting himself against Waylon's body comfortably with the ease of experience. Waylon brought his hand up to pet at Julio's hair again, but paused as a thought occurred to him. He asked, "Everybody thinks I'm in love with Mr. Burns?"

Julio laughed. "You're not subtle, Waylon."

Waylon's reply was to tilt Julio's face up toward his, and press his mouth hard over Julio's. Julio made a startled sound, but kissed back enthusiastically after a moment. Waylon held Julio's face between his hands, kissing Julio again and again until they had to break apart for air.

"How's that... for not subtle?" Waylon demanded.

Julio smiled slyly. "I don't know. Maybe I need... more convincing?"

Waylon let out a playful growl as he rolled them over, so that Julio was pinned beneath him, and he was straddling Julio's thighs. "You like to tease me, don't you?"

"I like the way you react," Julio answered honestly. He waggled his eyebrows at Waylon. "I mean, this looks _promising_..."

Waylon laughed, and this time, the kiss he pressed to Julio's mouth was softer, lingering. He was smiling as he pulled away, and said, "You make me happy, Julio. There's not a lot of people who do that."

Julio smiled back, and if there was any doubt in his eyes, Waylon couldn't see it. "You make me happy too, Waylon."


End file.
